


Pop Your Corn Like A Champ

by mending_fences



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hormones, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, M/M, PWP, Road Trips, Rookie Year, Silly Boys, Teenagers, poor impulse control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 13:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13388631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mending_fences/pseuds/mending_fences
Summary: He’s pretty sure Jonny’s mouth is still running, but he can’t really swear to it because in an instant his vision blurs and his mind wanders back to a rainy October night in Boston so many years ago, all the way back to their first season together. It started out the same as the other trips—team dinner and video review the night before the game, a shitty movie in their hotel room, chirping, more chirping, lots of bullshit flying back and forth, small objects flying back and forth, trading insults, possibly a slapping match, all leading to wrestling on the couch.The kissing was something new, though.So was Pat’s mouth on Jonny’s cock.Shit, Pat’s mouth onanyone’scock was something new.And really, it was inevitable—teenagers, hormones, instant gratification, absolutely no impulse control,hello.Whose bright idea was it for them to room together anyway? Pat kind of wants to buy them a small country with mineral rights.





	Pop Your Corn Like A Champ

**Author's Note:**

> So maybe I was just a bit too invested in Kaner's nhl.com holiday promo. No apologies!
> 
> Pat and Jonny are remembering a certain night in Boston, 10/24/07. Rainy and warm + awesome Four Seasons suite = Kaner's first time giving oral.
> 
> Be warned--no beta. I'll fix things as I find them and will most likely rework the ending because I am not even a little happy with it. I gave up (for now) and posted anyway. Sorry for that.
> 
> Comments and suggestions are always a happy surprise and give me a reason to check my email...

 ~ ~ ~

“Alright, everyone, 20 minute break. Get a drink, take a piss, take a pill, whatever you need to do. Be back here on time and ready to go. Time is money, people.” The director’s voice carries across the cast and crew and Pat just knows it’s mostly meant for him. He’s embarrassed, to say the least, and quickly walks off set. 

 

“Don’t even. Not one fucking word,” Pat says, lowering his script and leveling a finger right in Jon’s face. “I mean it, asshole, not one.”

 

Pat knows exactly what’s coming next. He knew it the minute he let Jonny read the damn script.

 

“ _Pop your corn like a champ!_ Like a _champ_ , Pat! Oh my god!” Jonny starts to cackle, lets it build slowly, obnoxiously. It isn’t pretty.

 

“Fuck you. If you can’t stand there with your mouth fucking shut, go the fuck home. Shoulda never agreed to let you come with today.”

 

“No, fuck _you_. And fuck you _again_ for thinking I wouldn’t remember. You’re dumb. And you suck.” Jonny’s still laughing and flicks Pat right on the ear before burying his hand in his hair. He hangs on and tugs gently, just for a moment, just long enough to make his point.

 

And Pat gets it, he remembers, too. He’ll never forget.

 

He’s pretty sure Jonny’s mouth is still running, but he can’t really swear to it because in an instant his vision blurs and his mind wanders back to a rainy October night in Boston so many years ago, all the way back to their first season together. It started out the same as the other trips—team dinner and video review the night before the game, a shitty movie in their hotel room, chirping, more chirping, lots of bullshit flying back and forth, small objects flying back and forth, trading insults, possibly a slapping match, all leading to wrestling on the couch.

 

The kissing was something new, though.

 

So was Pat’s mouth on Jonny’s cock.

 

Shit, Pat’s mouth on _anyone’s_ cock was something new.

 

And really, it was inevitable—teenagers, hormones, instant gratification, absolutely no impulse control, _hello._ Whose bright idea was it for them to room together anyway? Pat kind of wants to buy them a small country with mineral rights.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

_October 24, 2007_

 

It's warmer and wetter and thicker than Pat thought and he sits up to get a better angle, to get more of Jonny inside him, kneeling next to his hip as he stretches out on the couch. The hardwood is hell on his knees, but he doesn't really notice, just concentrates on Jonny and how his dick pulses inside Pat’s mouth and he tastes _so fucking_ _good_ , like salt and sex and his own come when he’s sucked it off his fingers after rubbing one out.   
  
He rolls his lips over his teeth, puts one hand on Jonny’s hip and wraps the other one around the base of his cock, pushing him further into his mouth and feeling the stretch of his jaw as he tenses up. Pat tries to relax, he really does, but it’s a losing battle because he’s too excited and nervous and overwhelmed and desperate to do this right, to make it feel good for Jonny. Add to it that Jonny is just _big_. So he breathes slowly through his nose and sits up more and keeps filling his mouth with Jonny’s dick until his lips bump his fist and his breath is too shallow and then he swallows around him.  
  
"Fuck," Jonny moans and spirals his fingers into Pat’s curls, pulling the strands between his knuckles and letting his nails scratch softly at his scalp. Pat takes him further into his mouth, touching the back of his tongue until he feels like he might gag. And he does, just a little, jerking forward, breath catching and stomach jumping into his throat. Jon lifts his head up, grips Pat’s tight and eases him off his cock.  
  
"It’s okay, take your time," Jonny murmurs and strokes Pat’s hair softly. He looks up at him, brown eyes catching blue as he traces his thumb across the curve of his cheekbone.

 

Jon lets his head fall back and closes his eyes and Pat knows he’s doing fine. Better than fine. He touches the head of Jonny’s cock with the tip of his tongue and sucks him gently, flicking at his slit again and again. Precome coats his tongue, thick and clear and stringing from Jonny’s dick to Pat’s mouth. He spreads it across his lips and rubs his cock in it, kissing, licking, letting spit run down his tongue and over Jon’s dick to Pat’s hand.  
  
"Jesus," Jonny gasps. He has one hand clenched tight in Pat’s hair and the other one fanned out across his cheek. It’s almost too much against Pat’s hot, damp, flushed skin.

 

He tries to remember any of the things ever done to him, things that made his eyes roll back and the come spurt out his dick before he'd even realized that it happened, but he can’t focus. It's all a blur of nameless, faceless chicks who meant less than nothing, so he just concentrates on taking shallow, shaky breaths and fills his nose with the scent of soap and cock and Jonny. _His scent_. Clean laundry, fresh ice, cut pine, wax and peppermint chap stick. _Jonny._ It’s become so familiar so quickly even though it’s all so new to Pat and it dawns on him that he doesn’t need focus or memory to know that no one, nothing, will ever compare to this, to Jon.   
  
Pat wants so badly to touch himself, but he doesn't want to break contact with any part of Jonny’s skin so he doesn’t. He feels the tips of Jonny’s fingers slide around his jaw, guiding him, holding him, following him as he slowly pumps his dick into his mouth. It's so far beyond intimate as Pat stares up at Jon, his mouth sucking on his cock. He feels Jonny breathing rapid and erratic as he trails his hand from Jon’s hip and presses it against his hard, flat stomach. It feels as hot as Pat’s cheek. Jonny’s other hand slides behind Pat’s neck and pushes him forward, deeper and even closer and he opens his eyes and sees Pat and smiles. Pat wants to smile back but his mouth is full of Jonny’s cock.

 

Then Jonny moves his hips up, down, up, down, carefully fucking Pat’s mouth like it was his ass, but slower and softer and smoother. Pat runs his tongue along the underside of Jonny’s cock and lets him. He lets his spit slide down Jon’s dick and spreads it up and down with his fist, slicking him with it and Pat sits up more and moans deep in his throat because he fucking loves it, loves this feeling of fullness and he closes his eyes and starts to bob up and down, over and over and Jon fucks Pat’s mouth faster and harder and then Jonny’s fingers grip Pat’s hair and he sucks in a breath and pushes further inside and gets even bigger, hotter, deeper,  _more_  and Pat holds his breath for what he knows is going to happen and then it does.

 

Warm come pours into his throat and he swallows hard and fast without thinking, without pausing to really taste it and know it and let it fill his mouth. But it's okay because it’s inside Pat now.  _Jonny's_  inside Pat now and he continues to swallow come and spit and sighs softly through his nose as Jonny’s dick gradually softens on his tongue. He finally lets it fall from between his red, swollen lips.   
  
Jonny grips the back of Pat’s hair tightly and pulls him up his body and kisses him hard, deep, tongue swirling and laving inside his mouth, washing away whatever's left. Their bodies are now touching everywhere and its hands down the hottest kiss Pat’s ever had.  
  
"Holy shit," Jonny says, eyes dark and sleepy, a smile spreading across his lips. "Not too shabby for a novice. You weren't lying about this being your first time, were you?"

 

He looks at Pat suspiciously, one eyebrow raised, and Pat starts to argue, but then Jonny starts to laugh and Pat pinches him.   
  
"You’re an asshole. I just sucked your cock like a champ. A _champ!_ I'm a fucking _natural_ ," Pat says and tries really hard, and unsuccessfully, to keep the smile from taking over his face.

 

He rolls off Jonny and melts into the couch behind him, stretching out and still smiling and looking more than a little pleased with himself. Jon kisses Pat on the forehead and then gets up and heads to the kitchen. If Pat still feels Jonny between his hot, swollen lips, still tastes him on his tongue, well, bonus for Pat.   
  
“Hey, _champ_ , there’s always something new to learn and you can always be better,” Jonny says as he sets two bottles of water on the end table and drops to his knees next to Pat. His smile is soft and his eyes are shining and his fingers go straight to the waistband of Pat’s sweats.

 

Pat arches up off the couch into Jonny’s hands, closes his eyes and whispers, “I’m ready.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“I’m ready…” Pat says quietly.

 

“Pat,” the director calls. Pat doesn’t even look at him, doesn’t even flinch.

 

“I’m ready…” Pat says again, a million miles away.

 

“Pat. Patrick. _Mr. Kane!_ "

 

Jonny thumps Pat on the back of the head and he’s jolted back to reality, the sound of Jonny’s laughter loud and unwelcome in his ears. He looks around and blinks rapidly.

 

“Shit! Sorry. I’m sorry. Okay, let’s do this. I’m ready.” Pat’s face is now the color of his jersey and he takes a second to swivel his head and glare daggers at Jonny before taking his place on set and facing the cameras.

 

“So you’ve said.” The director is clearly unimpressed. “Alright, then. Kane, take _6_. And… _action_.”

 

The actresses sitting at the prop table are also unimpressed. Pat squirms a little, takes a deep breath and goes for it.

 

“Transform your kitchen into a trophy case when you display the state of the art Stanley Cup Popcorn Maker. Pop your corn like a champ. From the very first batch, it smells like victory….”

 

“That’s a wrap, people! Thank fucking god. Good job, Pat. Merry fucking Christmas,” says the director. “They don’t pay me enough to deal with these fucking prima donnas…” This last bit is mumbled under his breath. Pat still hears him.

 

Pat’s pissed. And beyond embarrassed. Six takes for a thirty second spot. What the fuck? He already knows Tyler shot his in two and Fleury wrapped it up in four--and he can barely _speak_ coherently. He’s not even going to mention McDickwad’s single sparkling take. So yeah, _pissed_.

 

“Fuck you, pecker head. I can’t believe you were _laughing_ at me.” Pat snipes at Jonny, who is still snickering at his side. He realizes just how ridiculous his words are the second they leave his mouth. He’d have done so much worse to Jonny had their positions been reversed. “Just… shut up.”

 

Pat squats down and gets his skates off in record time. He also takes a couple deep breaths just because.

 

“Oh, come on, princess. You did great. I mean it. For sure that sixth take was great. Really, you’re a fucking _natural._ ” Jonny is a giant asshole. He’s smirking _so hard_ and his inference isn’t lost on Pat.

 

“Blow me, Toews.” Pat is still the king of comebacks. Just ask him. He turns to look at Jonny, their eyes lock, and just like that the mood changes.

 

“Yeah?” Jonny is smiling that soft little smile, the one that’s only for Pat.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, Jonny. Someone once told me that there’s always something new to learn and you can always be better. Give me five to get this gear off and I’ll let you take me home and practice, see if he was right.” Pat is also smiling a soft little smile. It’s still on his lips when he comes back out a few minutes later.

 

“Ready?” Pat asks while steering Jonny out the door and into the parking lot.

 

“Yeah, Pat, I’m ready,” Jonny says. He winks as he catches Pat’s eye and breaks into a run.

 

~ ~ ~


End file.
